


Whipping Boy

by Flywoman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-04-10
Updated: 1998-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:29:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flywoman/pseuds/Flywoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Breakfast at Scully's: quick, light fare served hot off the griddle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whipping Boy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: CC needs some training in the proper care and feeding of his pets, but technically he still owns Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and the whole X-files universe. Thank theoretical physics for the multiverse... There's also a nod to the classic Val Kilmer movie "Real Genius."
> 
> Warning: Does not contain a significant percentage of the US RDA of any of the essential nutrients.

She was floating, half-submerged in sleep, her body bathed in a delicious  
warmth under the comforter despite the February chill, when a shrill ring  
shattered the morning calm. Dana Scully jerked awake, a foul curse in her  
mouth. Today was Saturday, and there was no good reason she could recall  
to explain why she had set her alarm for - she squinted blearily at the  
display - 7:10 in the morning. Dana fumbled with the snooze button for  
several seconds while the jarring sound continued to repeat itself  
insistently in her ear. At last reality managed to penetrate her clouded  
brain: the ringing was coming not from the clock, which she had in fact  
remembered *not* to set the night before, but from the telephone on her  
bedside table. Even as she finally made this connection, the piercing  
trill stopped as her answering machine kicked in. Dana reached for the  
receiver, scowling. "Hello?" she croaked, her tongue thick and dry in her  
mouth.

"Good morning, sunshine," came the all-too-cheerful reply.

"Mulder?" she nearly groaned. "Where are you?"

"I'm at home."

"What's going on?" she demanded groggily, thinking that it had better be  
nothing short of a full scale alien invasion.

"What? Uh, nothing. I was just out for a run earlier and I remembered  
how you were complaining the other day that we had no lives outside of  
work, so I thought I'd call and see if you wanted to get some breakfast."  
He sounded insanely wide awake. Chipper, even.

Dana closed her jaw and counted silently to ten. "Mulder," she said at  
last with what she thought commendable patience, "when I said that we  
needed to get lives outside of work, I think I was referring to time spent  
with people *other* than each other."

Her partner paused; Dana imagined his full lips pursing in a slightly hurt  
pout. "Really not a morning person, are you, Scully?" he said  
plaintively.

"I think that much has been well established, Mulder," she replied, more  
curtly than she'd intended.

"Okay, sorry, thought you'd be up and at 'em by now. I'll let you get  
back to sleep and maybe we can do this some other time."

Dana winced at the emphatic click in her ear as her partner hung up with  
more force than usual. She felt vaguely guilty despite her annoyance at  
being yanked unceremoniously out of sleep on a Saturday morning. It  
wasn't often that she and Mulder did things together on the weekends  
anymore when they weren't working on a case. And she *had* been left  
feeling oddly wistful yesterday afternoon when Mulder had departed from  
the office on time for once with the perfunctory announcement that he had  
a paper to review and would see her on Monday. Maybe he was more aware  
of her feelings than he normally let on. Maybe he was really trying.  
Maybe she should give him another chance.

"Yeah."

"Mulder, it's me."

"Scully? Where are you?" He sounded surprised and pleased.

"I'm in bed where I belong," she retorted, "but I was just calling to say  
that I think I could be on my feet and halfway presentable in an hour if  
you still want to have breakfast."

"Great! Should I pick you up?"

Dana frowned slightly. Her decision-making capabilities tended to be  
painfully impaired this early in the morning. "Uh, why don't we just make  
breakfast here? I could whip up some crepe batter, and if you could pick  
up a little fruit on your way over..."

"Fruit? Okay, fine. See you soon." *Click*. Dana looked bemusedly at  
the dead receiver and replaced it in its cradle. Mulder had sounded  
positively giddy. She wondered if she would be able to handle him in  
person without fortifying herself with a pot of strong coffee, decided  
not, and forced herself out of the bedclothes and into the kitchen to  
throw some beans in the grinder. Then she decided to go ahead and shower  
while the coffeemaker did its thing. She'd said an hour, but Mulder had  
said "soon," which ordinarily could mean anything from immediately to  
several days later, when he next recalled their conversation. Judging  
from his enthusiasm, however, it seemed safer to bet on the former. She  
sighed, smiling a little and shaking her head. She knew her partner only  
too well.

Yawning, Dana slouched into the bathroom and began running the water. On  
a cold morning like this one, she liked to have the place hot and steamy  
before she ventured out of her flannel pajamas. Once in the shower, she  
decided to wash her hair. Mulder lived almost twenty minutes away; she  
should have time to blow dry it before he got there.

She was brushing her teeth, her dripping hair wrapped in a towel turban,  
when the doorbell rang. Loudly. Twice. "Dammit," Dana muttered,  
wrapping her white bathrobe more firmly around her body and yanking the  
sash tight. "How the hell did he get here so fast?" She jammed her damp  
feet into her new slippers and stomped down the hall to the living room.

On the other side of the peephole, Mulder stood on one foot and then the  
other, juggling what looked like a bag of groceries and humming tunelessly  
to himself. Dana grimaced and unlocked the door, only to be nearly bowled  
over by her partner's puppyish exuberance.

"Hey there, Scully," he flung over his shoulder on his way to the kitchen,  
"I hope I'm not too late. Where's your cutting board?" He was already  
rattling around in there, jerking drawers open and rummaging in the  
cupboards. Dana followed him at a more subdued pace, wondering if barging  
in on one's partner in her bathrobe could be considered a capital offense.

"Um, Mulder," she said, still a little sleepy, "you know, there are a lot  
of decaffeinated brands on the market now that are just as tasty as the  
real thing."

"And good morning to you, too," Mulder replied, irrepressible, bouncing  
between the stove and the counter. "I've got strawberries here, some nice  
Granny Smiths, a bunch of bananas, chocolate syrup, powdered sugar, and  
a jar of Extra Chunky Homestyle applesauce with cinnamon." As he recited  
each item he was pulling it from the brown paper bag with a flourish, like  
a magician conjuring a rabbit, until at last he stood beaming next to the  
equivalent of an average roadside fruit stand.

"Mulder, you shouldn't have," Dana told him. "Really."

"Oh, it was no trouble," Mulder assured her breezily. "Hold on a sec and  
I'll get the other bags."

"You're kidding." Flatly.

"Actually, yes. Here are the eggs, though." He opened the carton and  
tilted it for her approval. "I got the brown ones. Guaranteed  
free-range."

"That's great," Dana told him, hoping that she didn't sound too sarcastic.

"Yeah. Oh, here are your bowls, good," and he lifted them easily down  
from a shelf that she would have had to stand on a stepstool to reach.  
"Where's your crepe pan?"

Dana realized that she had been standing idly in the doorway, arms folded,  
staring admiringly at the way that Mulder's narrow waist disappeared into  
his favorite jeans, which had been washed and worn so often that they  
hugged his ass like a second skin. She shook her head ruefully. *It's  
too early in the morning for this.*

"What, for breakfast? It's the most important meal of the day, Scully.  
You don't eat enough." Dana didn't even hear the remainder of this little  
spiel; she was too embarrassed to realize that she had spoken her thought  
aloud.

To cover her reaction, she made unnecessary noise and fuss in locating the  
crepe pan and getting out the flour sifter and the salt. With Mulder  
looking on, quietly for once, she quickly sifted a cup of all-purpose  
flour into one of the mixing bowls he had found and added two eggs,  
cracking them on the rim of the bowl and then expertly parting the halves  
with one hand. Then she rummaged in a drawer for a wooden spoon and  
handed it to Mulder. "Here, beat this."

He raised his eyebrows, started to make some smart-ass remark, then bit  
down on it and obediently began working the flour into the center of the  
bowl. Dana retrieved the nonfat milk from the fridge and added it to the  
mixture a little at a time. Every so often as she reached over the rim  
her wrist would brush briefly against Mulder's hand. For no good reason  
this never failed to send gentle shivers down the back of her neck.  
Mulder's eyes were locked onto the contents of the bowl, but Dana had the  
distinct impression that he was watching her every movement with a fierce  
attention hardly warranted by the situation. She half-expected him to  
suddenly produce something unnatural out of the depths of the batter for  
her inspection and demand, "What do you make of *this*, Dr. Scully?" The  
thought nearly made her giggle. She really needed some coffee.

Popping a slice of butter into a small bowl and setting it in the  
microwave to melt, Dana asked Mulder over her shoulder if he'd like a cup  
of coffee too. "Naaah," he replied, bouncing a little on the balls of his  
feet as he continued to stir the batter, "I'm waaay too wired. But you go  
ahead."

"Thank you," Dana said with just the faintest tinge of irony, and poured  
herself a mugful. The butter was ready. She stopped the microwave,  
grabbed a potholder, and drew out the bowl. The butter made a clear  
golden swirl against the crepe mixture. Dana lit the stove and threw on  
her crepe pan with a little safflower oil as Mulder gave the batter a  
few final swipes with the spoon. He looked so earnest, an errant lock of  
hair falling into his hazel eyes, that Dana had to fight the urge to pat  
his cheek. Or something. "That's great," she said instead, taking the  
bowl from him and turning towards the stove. "Could you get the heavy  
cream out of the fridge and start whipping it with the mixer?"

Mulder made a little face as he pulled the refrigerator door ajar. "What  
am I, your whipping boy?"

Dana kept her face averted, unable to suppress a smirk. "Get cracking,  
Mulder."

"Ha, *ve*ry pun-ny, Scully. How much of this should I use?" Mulder was  
jiggling the carton experimentally.

"Let's see... start with a pint."

"I hear and obey, O Goddess of the Griddle." He plugged the appliance  
into a socket and set it for "whip." Fortunately, the ensuing racket  
drowned out Dana's reply.

For a few minutes after that, neither of them spoke. Dana dipped up a  
half cup of batter and poured it, tilting the warm pan to spread it evenly  
over the bottom. She managed to time the flip just right, ending up with  
a lightly browned but greasy thin pancake.

Behind her, Mulder appraised his own handiwork and turned the mixer off.  
"How's that?" he asked, holding out the bowl for her evaluation. Dana  
stuck her index finger into the cream and thoughtfully sucked it clean.

"Hmmm... You're not quite stiff enough. Keep whipping, Mulder."

"Oooh, Scully," he leered, "I think I just got very turned on." Scully  
hid her grin by turning back to the stove and expertly flipping her second  
crepe. Thankfully, it was much less oily than the first had been. She  
poured out a third.

Several crepes later, Mulder piped up behind her. "Hey, Scully? It's  
starting to clump." Dana was poised to pour the last crepe, but now she  
dropped the measuring cup into the mixing bowl and lunged over to peer  
around Mulder's shoulder.

"Oh, that's enough, it's practically butter," she scolded, taking the  
mixer away and switching it off. She scraped the side of the bowl with  
her finger and was about to pop it into her mouth when Mulder grasped her  
wrist. Startled, she looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and his  
mouth open in the most appealing way. Fascinated, Dana allowed her hand  
to drift upwards towards his face. Those full, sensuous lips captured her  
finger and sucked gently, the wet heat of his mouth sending a mild  
electric tingle up her arm and straight into her brain. She felt herself  
grinning foolishly with a sudden euphoria.

Mulder, meanwhile, opened his eyes, a moist green in this light, and  
searched her face. He smacked his lips reflectively. "Not bad," he  
observed. "Here, why don't you have some?" He scooped up some of the  
fluffy cream and planted it squarely on her aquiline nose.

For a second she couldn't react. Then her grin widened and she dipped in  
again and got a handful across his stubbly cheek despite his attempt to  
twist up out of her reach. Shortly thereafter, Dana found herself  
cornered against the kitchen table, almost shrieking in excitement.  
Mulder was pawing at her and cackling with laughter.

"Mulder, cut it out!" Dana scolded, but she was on the verge of giggling,  
which completely ruined the stern tone she'd intended. She planted her  
palms on the table and leaned as far forward as possible, whipping her  
head back and forth to avoid Mulder's cream-tipped fingers.

"Scuh-leee," he coaxed, "c'mon, hold still!" He had her surrounded, his  
long arms curled around her shoulders, his lean stomach pressed against  
her back. Even through the thick terrycloth robe, she could feel the heat  
of him.

Suddenly very much aware that her butt was nestled snugly against  
Mulder's groin and that she was wearing nothing but a robe, Dana  
stiffened. Mulder seemed to become cognizant of these facts at the same  
instant, for instead of pursuing his advantage, he backed off, his playful  
grin fading to a self-conscious grimace. They avoided each other's gazes  
for a moment, both a little breathless, a little shaken. Dana felt  
herself blushing and cursed her fair Irish skin. To cover her discomfort,  
she looked down and rearranged her robe, which had been left none too  
secure by her partner's grappling.

Mulder managed to find his voice first. "Is it just me, Scully, or is it  
kinda hot in here?"

Dana glanced up warningly, then spotted something more alarming past his  
shoulder. "Oh my god, the pan!" She dodged around Mulder, nearly  
becoming entangled with him as he tried to sidestep her, and grabbed for  
the smoking crepe pan. The oil had burned and stuck to the bottom. She  
plunged it under the faucet, and steam billowed up, veiling her flushed  
face.


End file.
